Cigarettes and Alcohol
by BellaNight
Summary: Amanda Harte hates her name, and will only be known as Siouxsie Vicious. She loves Drive Shaft, The Sex Pistols, and Siouxsie and the Banshees. She hates everyone else. So how will this London Punk survive on an island in the middle of the ocean with peop


**Note:** My first "Lost" fic everyone! Okay, the main character is my own creation, sort of like Frankenstein…lol, and WILL NOT, I repeat, WILL NOT become a Mary-Sue. I promise, promise, promise. Her name sounds Mary-Sueish, BUT there is an explanation. And yes, she does have flaws. She is basically one great big flaw. SO EVERYONE JUST CHILL! Lol

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, never will be mine, please don't sue cause I'm just a poor, messed up teen! THANK YOU!

**Prologue: What plane!**

_Thundering music blared from the young girls headphones as she sat, completely swamped by her black sweatshirt, in the cheapest economy seat on the plane. Perhaps L.A wasn't the best place to run to, but at least she could find her father. Of course, she never saw him. An occasional letter asking her how old she was now and then wasn't a substitute for being a real father._

_The plane gave a violent shudder, and the fasten seatbelt sign was illuminated. She stared angrily up at the sign, deliberately not fastening her seatbelt. Why should she do what people told her? People could kiss her—_

_This time the turbulence was worse, and she was flung from her seat, knocking her side painfully on the armrest of the seat next to her before smashing into the floor. She groaned, shaking as she navigated her way back to her seat. People were in hysterics, and the plane was still shaking, jumping around, threatening to fall out of the air. And what if it did? She would die. Wow, big frigging deal. The shaking increased, and she shut her eyes, listening to Siouxsie Sioux scream out lyrics and the people around her cry out for help. It would all be over soon enough…_

_

* * *

_

"Jack, quick, here's another one. I think she's still breathing," She blinked her eyes open, looking up at a woman with dark brown hair. She tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in her abdomen stopped her. Hissing angrily, she laid back down in the…sand? Her head was pounding. What had happened? All she could remember was people screaming, and then everything went black.

"Don't move. What's your name?" a deep male voice asked her. She squinted up. The sun was in her eyes.

"Siouxsie," she mumbled, "that's S-I-O-U-X-S-I-E, not S-U-S-I-E." There was a silence. And then:

"Where are you from, Siouxsie? Your name, it's…different…" The woman was speaking again, and she could feel someone prodding and poking her stomach with something sharp.

"My birth name is Amanda, but I don't fancy being named after my grandmother," she replied monotonously, wincing as the dull pain in her abdomen suddenly seared. "What are you doing?"

"You gashed your stomach open on something when we crashed," the man replied. "I'm stitching it up for you." Siouxsie blinked a few times, the sun still in her eyes.

"What crashed?" she asked, squinting up at the woman who was sitting next to her.

"The plane. Don't worry; it's normal for people with a concussion not to remember past events,"

"I know what a concussion is," Siouxsie growled back, her head throbbing. But why were they on an island? She's been looking out of the window before they supposedly crashed, and all she had seen was sea, sea, and more sea. It was awful. "Bloody plane crash didn't even kill me," she muttered bitterly, closing her eyes. The sun really was rather annoying.

"Right, Amanda, you'll be fine. There didn't seem to be any infection or other complications, so you can go with Kate to sit in the shade, alright?" The man was speaking again. Siouxsie narrowed her eyes at him.

"It's Siouxsie, by the way," she replied, gingerly sitting up and looking down at her stomach. It had been completely ripped open by something and she could see her now ripped and bloodstained sweatshirt lying next to her in the sand. "Oh, yeah, thanks for sticking needles in me or whatever," she added as she picked the sweatshirt, tying it around her waist just below where the cut was. But the man had already disappeared. She supposed he was one of those hero types: always saving all sorts of people.

"Don't worry, it wasn't too deep. Just a surface wound really. You're quite lucky: Jack said if it had been any deeper, you would have died," the woman, Kate, told her. Siouxsie grunted, showing that she had heard and would rather not talk to anyone. The pair walked along for a few more minutes in silence, rather slowly due to Siouxsie's injury, and reached the edge of a jungle were a blond pregnant woman sat with her back against a tree.

"You can sit with Claire, alright Siouxsie?" Siouxsie nodded, her face knotted into a bored scowl. Kate sighed, leaving Claire and Siouxsie alone in the shade.

"Before, you say anything to me, Claire or whatever I'm meant to call you, just remember that I don't want to be on this shitty island or whatever it is, and that I don't want to talk to anyone. I just want to get to LA. Understand?" Siouxsie snapped, still scowling. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to sleep. Maybe I'll wake up dead." With those final words, she stalked off further into the jungle, laying down on the leaves and shutting her eyes.


End file.
